


Marionette

by strawbearvie



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at sarcasm, Blackmail, Confident Poppy Wilkes, Controlling Behaviour, Discrimination, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, M/M, Misogyny, Sarcasm, Sexism, Slow Build, They Really Need Therapy, Tora needs therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25971802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawbearvie/pseuds/strawbearvie
Summary: Goliath is an idiot.Tora has no sense of self-preservation.And Poppy really just wants to get out of this hellhole.Oh and Vincent's an asshole.[TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of the actions of the characters are unhealthy and toxic. There are mentions of (past and present) abuse and trauma, so please be warned! If you are personally experiencing these, please seek help!]
Relationships: Tora/Poppy Wilkes
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. Goliath is fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> My addiction to MPL is not even healthy anymore.
> 
> Also, the themes here are a lot darker than I anticipated. For some reason, my writing style changed again and now this entire piece of work is hella sarcastic.
> 
> Hopefully, I actually finish A piece of work here. Somehow. But with the UK government not really giving a shit about my A-levels and me trying to get into medicine, I might not have time. But this work is entirely self-indulgent.
> 
> [TRIGGER WARNING; terrible coping mechanisms and really sarcastic mentions of child abuse and trauma.]

"If I tell you to bite, you ask: how hard?" is the motto that Vincent repeated time and time again. 

His underdogs were his pawns, disposable and ready for him to mould into whatever monster he desired. Ready to enforce the ridiculous taxes upon residents unlucky enough to owe him their lives; to hide a rotting corpse in the seedy back-alleys of Ares street; to turn other unlikeable characters into said corpses.

He thrived with the dominance that came with being a clan leader, the possession he placed over his men. Craving for it like a dog with a bone or a starved man with scraps, it was an ongoing addiction. The definite lines separating power and pleasure began to blur and distort as his addiction grew. They became intertwined in few mundane aspects of life, even often feeding into his sexual desires, having his hands take power over their breathing and restraining them with all these ridiculous contraptions till their tears overflowed was invigorating. Seeing the glint in his partner's eyes suddenly displaced by terror rather than sexual prowess - would urge his sociopathic addiction further. 

He thought that Quincenton would take after his character, the same musky grit and the sexuality that came with being a Balthuman, but he was far from the truth. 

In every way that Vincent Balthuman found ecstasy in the Mafia, his son did not. His eyes did not twinkle at the sight of broken bones and squelching blood. Or the glint of reluctant submission in someone's eyes, once they understood that a Balthuman held their lifeline in their hands. Nor did he find pleasure in the blackmail and underhanded tactics his Father forced upon his investors. Vincent couldn't successfully _beat_ (emotionally or physically) the flamboyant nature that Quincenton thrived in, or _destroy_ his need to become a social butterfly. So, naturally, he gave up and blamed the boy's mother. Growling out every degrading insult to her genes and her ability to produce a suitable heir. It became a sport for Vincent. Routine setting in between creating an emotional hole of father-figure absence and verbally abusing his wife. Until she was infuriated to the point of departure. (Not that it was successful of course, Vincent had her ~~killed~~ eliminated in case of any information being leaked.)

Upon seeing the _Asura_ Siblings, Vincent couldn't help but leap and the chance for redemption. If he couldn't _beat_ the femininity out of his failure of a son, what would stop him from trying it again and doing it to the Asuras? _Surely he could do better the second time around._ They both had the natural grit and grime that Vincent craved for in a child, easily manipulated into a prodigy of a Balthuman guard dog. He wouldn't consider passing on the power to them of course, his bloodline needed to remain pure, despite how disgusting his future heir was to be. He couldn't possibly consider tainting it with **homeless scum** , no matter how much of a prodigy they were.

Tora Asura had the grit of a warrior. The boy became positively animated at the sight of violence, a bloodthirsty desire was natural for him. His hands would tremble and his mouth would water, waiting for Vincent to let go of the leash and send him on a rampage. But he was not simply a _brute_ , he was calculated and emotionless, the perfect fear-mongering demon that Vincent was looking for. After years of corporal punishment and a bit of _breaking-in_ : the boy became a fully fledge guard dog. If Vincent said bite, he asked how hard. The boy's eyes became something else when he faced a new task, the hunting prowess was an instinct for the boy. Even Vincent could be disgusted with the level of gruesome violence the boy could muster. As he grew older, however, he didn't have the eyes twinkling with obedience but of the need for survival. Tora did not search for approval (though as a child this was a ridiculous attribute that Vincent wanted to go, it became too irritating to have a deadbeat puppy trailing after some pets and recognition) rather continued his tasks out of ~~absolute fear~~ respect of his master. 

Vincent mastered the art of pushing and pulling - being able to provide just enough pain to terrorise, but never to cower or to abandon. (He thanked his late-wife for that lesson. Maybe she wasn't as useless as he initially believed.). Understanding simply what buttons to push, at the right time and place, worked wonders. Knowing how to reward and reprimand effectively, proved him with the most vicious henchmen in Ares Street. 

Goliath Asura, on the other hand, had a mind of his own. He was spirited and extremely reckless, unbothered by corporal punishments or pain. While he was not as obedient as Tora, he could hold his own against Tora. Goliath was too rabid to be tamed, too sick and twisted in mind and simply too obsessed with his quest for revenge and power. It was too bothersome for Vincent to handle, so he simply beat a little bit of caution into the boy. Each punishment he underwent, the more bothersome he became. He'd become rowdier; have Quincenton in harm's way just to spray paint stupid graffiti on a wall; simply cuss at Vincent as if he hadn't had a care in the world. But after a simple warning and a bullet in his shoulder and his side, the boy lived with more caution. He wasn't any less idiotic, but he became calculated. He still refused complete submission but he wasn't going to be interfering with Vincent any longer. And that was that.

* * *

_'please don't leave me here, I want to go to the beach too.'_

Tora opened his eyes. He feet were placed haphazardly on the arm of his shitty and stupidly small couch, boots still on. Each one was covered in some sort of dried bloodstain or smears of mud, but he couldn't care less.

It was refreshing, not smelling of blood and sweat 25 hours a day, 8 days a week. Not taking mafia-related orders, but simply doing whatever he wanted. Instead, he could wake up to the _amazing terrors of childhood abuse_ each morning and go off to do whatever bullshit his dick felt like feeling - usually, it was inside some fake bimbo he found by the bakery. Tora insisted on some sort of 'leave of absence' 1 month prior. He was only really permitted 3 weeks absence, after bringing up excuses like 'its good for the mind' or whatever that bullshit meant. They bought it obviously, Vincent telling him to take as long as needed but to come back when he wanted. 

He had ignored 167 calls and 87 messages from Vincent.

His phone was thrown under the couch, somewhere between the unopened packet of potato chips and the used condom. So even if he wanted to - which he most certainly did _not_ \- he couldn't be asked to move about and stick his hand into the abyss of disgust.

The apartment was disgusting. It was moist and musky, having a weird lingering scent of mud, cigarettes and sex. The smell stuck to the walls, even the lightbulb that Tora didn't even turn on most of the time. All of the furniture, except the TV set, was shit. Creaky, ripped and all mismatched. He didn't even have a bed for god's sake. His bin was filled with condom wrappers, the used rubbers and random snacks that became stale. There was a leak in the corner, but it watered that shitty plant that Quincey insisted on him having. (He said that it would "liven up the place." and would "make it less like a brothel.")

Tora had played every game that he could be bothered with; fucked enough women that he should really consider an STI check and played with enough dogs at that stupid shelter that opened up 2 weeks ago. He bought a shitty motorbike and crashed it into the side of the car belonging the asshole that flicked him off the week prior; had enough drinks at some bar in Night's End and fucked the bartender Ezzi - Esmeralda - enough times that she thought they were 'dating' or whatever. 

It was August 14th. Just over 1 month since he left.

And he was bored out of his fucking mind. 

* * *

Vincent was ~~livid~~ pissed. Though, not surprised. 

Tora took off, wouldn't answer his damned phone _again_ and this damned notebook that his idiotic brother _~~Goliath~~ _conjured up was losing him investors. Tora had been working for the better part of 12 years for him - he was only 26 - and it was understandable that he needed a break. But, not by fucking off and ignoring his calls for a damned month!

Vincent threw his mail opener ~~dagger~~ at the statue, bouncing off and creating a ridiculous metallic ringing throughout the room. If he could, he would gouge the knife straight into Tora's palms, but he couldn't for several reasons. 

One: no matter how much of a guard dog Tora was, survival and anger could still set him off. Although Tora may bite whatever creature Vincent made him chase after, Vincent himself was not excluded from Tora's anger. He couldn't simply die off knowing that Balthuman will be taken over by his idiot of a son. Two: Tora is the only idiot stupid enough to go up against an idiot like Goliath. Stupidity must run in the family genes. Three: Tora has no sense of self-preservation. He will kill whatever living thing without thinking of the repercussions. He surely would've killed Vincent long ago if Vincent hadn't _conditioned_ him enough as a child.

Nevertheless, Vincent couldn't dwell on the idiocy that Tora felt like doing. He had dealt with enough of it this past month.

Violence was like a temporary high for Tora - Vincent knew that - like every filthy drug user's addiction to Ecstacy, or whatever shitty drug was up and spiralling nowadays, Tora could not stay away from the Mafia for long. The Ares Tiger was similar to Vincent like this, the need to _kill_ was more the need to _breathe_. Plus Tora would sure get bored, there were only so many sexual fantasies that a man could want, and he'd soon come crawling back to Vincent for his fix.

* * *

Tora found himself on the elevator up to Vincent's office.

He was dressed in black slacks and a white-collar. Something that blended him into the business district of Nairin. His hair was down, however, after finding an incident between the size of his hands and the number of times he had to knot the broken hair tie together.

Mr Kim had caught him walking past his desk and towards Vincent's office, the secretary was chasing his tail again, telling him that he couldn't "just wander back in expecting a meeting with Vincent out of nowhere." So Tora smiled at him and ~~gave him a middle finger~~ sent his regards. 

"Asshole."

* * *

Vincent was glaring a hole into Tora's skull. His fingers tapping on his armchair, almost as if he was contemplating Tora's death.

"Tora, where the _fuck_ do you think you have been?" 

"On leave." Tora was sat, man-spreading in front of the desk.

"I fucking know you've been 'on leave' you insolent little-" Vincent cleared his throat. Trying to regain some form of collectiveness over his anger. _He could very well leave again._ "Yes, I know. We agreed, Tora. You answer to _me_. When I tell you to-"

"Bite, I ask how hard." Tora looked up, sticking to eye level. "You've taught me enough. I just needed time. I apologise, sir. It will not happen again."

Vincent smiled, non-threateningly.

"I would love to catch up, son." The blonde slammed down a manilla envelope. "But something requires your attention."

Reaching for the envelope, he looked up at Vincent. It was light. There was too few pages, too little information. Or Vincent found his man. As he opened it, he was met with a picture of Goliath, it seemed to be taken from the bar Scharch introduced him to.

"Your brother, Goliath. He's been missing for 2 weeks now." Vincent made it blunt and simple, much to Tora's appreciation. "He made this stupid notebook. And all of Ares Street is fucking livid.

It apparently has _dirt_ on every clan leader, politician, investor - anyone, you name it - in it. Everyone _knows_ he's your blood. So they think he's Balthuman. Every fucking investor's been pulling out, cancelling trade deals, postponing meetings. All because they think we're ratting them out. They're making me look like a fuckin-. Look, if the feds get their hands on that book, we're all fucked. Balthuman, Nine daggers, Invictus, Outlaws, Bloodline? Gone."

"You want him dead."

"No. I want _the_ notebook. Every damn copy of it." Tora breathed. "Then I want him dead. Dead men don't spread shit."

Golden eyes skimmed through every bit of information on the page. So much for 'blood is thicker than water'. What was Goliath _thinking?_


	2. Team Player

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent knows how to play his cards right. Unfortunately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself but write this. I am procrastinating but who cares, I've been getting 800+ on my UCAT scores on each of my sections, so I might as well treat myself.
> 
> [I am also legally required to tell you that I do NOT have a degree in law. I have no idea how the law really works when it comes to business relations. So I made up my own. Then proceeded to explain it in a fancy way so that it sounds somewhat legit.]

_"No. I want the notebook. Every damn copy of it." Tora breathed. "Then I want him dead. Dead men don't spread shit."_

_Golden eyes skimmed through every bit of information on the page. So much for 'blood is thicker than water'. What was Goliath thinking?_

* * *

Tora bore his eyes straight into Vincent's. Either out of respect or some hope that Vincent would be intimidated by him.

"Give me 5 names. And places. Residences, last seen at, who does he know. The usual."

Vincent kicked his drawer shut. He was getting comfortable, Tora's vicious aura was worsening. Thanks to Vincent's _terrific conditioning_ all those years ago, Tora's mental state was somewhat worrying. Years passing, Tora's tolerance for blood and gore and the whole rest of it was alarming; almost as if he was wanting _more_. _More_ bloodshed, _more_ terror. Not that it was a problem of course, but even the likes of the 'Nine Daggers' were absolutely repulsed at Tora's _abilities_. There were multiple occasions where even Vincent himself was close to vomiting, the sight of squelching organs and the sight of unrecognisable faces had Vincent close to excusing himself from the scene.

Tora was simply inhuman.

Placing his feet on the pile of paperwork on his right, placing his hands on the nape of his neck and reclining his chair slightly.

"That I cannot give you. I simply don't know," Vincent smirked and Tora got uncomfortable. "But I will give you a bit of help with that-"

_"Mr Balthuman, Wilkes is here to see you."_

The intercom sounded shitty and like it was made of those canned sardines that Tora had when he was lazy. He was surprised Vincent could even understand it.

"Send them in."

* * *

Tora had an objection to teamwork. 

He wasn't exactly a _team player_. Sure, he had Gyu running errands for him, but Gyu wasn't an idiot. Maybe he needed a bit of _physical encouragement_ the first time, to keep his mouth shut, but he was smart enough to know how Tora did things. 

Tora didn't like to repeat himself. He hated fucking repeating his instructions to some high school dropout, mafia-wannabe who only liked to brown-nose his way to the bosses upstairs. It was a waste of time, and honestly, it was never done properly. There would always be a knuckle kicked to the side during _body disposal_ or yet another picture of a Balthuman clan member fucking some boss' missus. 

Tora also didn't like to give out encouragement. Its the fucking mafia, for fucks sake, not _daddy_ -fucking- _daycare_. You don't brand yourself with Balthuman tattoos and then ask ' _mummy are you proud?_ '. If Tora wanted a little _bitch_ running after him then he would go to the brothel down the road, Zee would definitely provide him with one. 

So when Vincent mentioned _teamwork_ with this Wilkes asshole? Tora was not impressed. Surely after years of _locking and chaining Tora in that damned hole_ , Vincent should know how things run with Tora. After all, he _was_ the one who taught him all of that. Teamwork was a 'no-go'.

Vincent was really pushing his buttons.

"You know I don't like _teamwork_."

"Yes and I don't like _faggots_ but Quincenton is still one. What is your point exactly?"

"Tell him to piss off. I'm not working with some shitty high school drop out going through hormonal rebellion." Tora sat up in his seat, beginning to get heated. "I'm not a fucking babysitter."

"Neither am I." Vincent clenched his fist, his temper beginning to rise. "But it seems that you've forgotten that. Now stand down, Tora."

Tora huffed and bit back his remarks. As if it was _possible_ , he began to man-spread even _more_ , placing his leg over the arm of the chair and his boot resting on the seat next to it. Pulling out his phone, he began scrolling for Ezzi's newest number, _bourbon_ and _sex_ would definitely do him some good right now. If Vincent wanted him to deal with this douchebag, then fine. But it'll be on his terms. His way or this bastard is going to be found _dead_ on the highway.

" _Mr Chairman? Apologies, I kinda got lost on the way here._ " The voice was light and fucking _feminine._

"Ahh, Poppy, my dear. It has been too long." Vincent stood up from his seat, with a gracious but mocking smirk. Shoving Tora's foot off the chair, he moved it out of reach. "How have you been, love?"

Tora refused to look at her. This was _insulting_! Did he just get a fucking child to work with him? Tora was not sexist. Fine, she's a woman. Tora _loved_ women. So okay, she had tits. Tora absolutely adored them. No problem right there. But, Tora spat at high school dropouts entering Balthuman and Vincent went out of his way to set him up with one. Absolutely fucking grand. _Plus, who the fuck would call themselves after a_ flower _when dealing with the mafia?_

"Just been waiting on your word for the past few years. Thanks for funding my tuition, by the way, Mr Chairman." She winked at him. _Great another whore_.

"Congratulations on first honours, my dear." The honey-glazed gaze that Vincent suddenly disintegrated, evaporating into thin air. Instead, it was replaced with a piercing gaze, his words like a double-edged sword. "I expect that your skills are ready for use?" 

"Of course, Sir."

"Tora sit up. Greet Miss Poppylan."

Tora sat up and finally took in the voluptuous beauty beside him. Tora could tell that her ass was just _hugged_ by that damned pencil skirt, every movement was restrained. It was obvious how absolutely grabbable it was. One wrong move and she would be flashing both him _and_ the Boss. Not that he would mind that. Not at all. From the front as well! By gods were his eyes being blessed.

_I swear I'm not a fucking pervert. Tora, look up! Up, you bastard._

She wore a white and black blouse, that was just _inviting_ Tora's eyes into her cleavage. Not in a way that her breasts were spilling out, but more of just teasing him. You could tell that she was at least a DD. And god did they look like pillows. Not in an insulting way, but damn would it be a good squeeze.

_That is not fucking 'up' enough, you idiot. UP._

Finally, he looked at her face. She was a fucking angel. Her hair was let out in loose waves, little stray hairs were framing her face. Brown, _hamster-like?_ eyes gazed at him. She was too innocent-looking to be affiliated with the likes of Vincent Balthuman. Pink dusted over her nose and her cheeks, not by cosmetics but naturally somehow. Everything seemed so natural. Her lips were perfect, plump and soft, perfect if it was wrapped around his-

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr Asura." She smiled at him. A wide and inviting one. Genuine. "Mr Chairman has been raving about you since we met. _He's big... and one of the only decent guards. No need to worry about me, Poppylan._ " She imitated terribly.

"Please, lovely, you embarrass me."

Tora grinned slightly. "The pleasure's all mine, _sweetheart_."

* * *

Tora watched as Poppy pulled out her floral notebook with _'why be moody when you can shake your booty?'_ plastered in fancy lettering.

"So, Mr Vince, what's up?"

Vincent smiled at the nickname and gently produced another manilla envelope, similar to the one he gave to Tora. But except this had _Poppylan_ scribbled on it.

"I need you to find out some things for me Poppy-dear." He sighed. "This is Goliath Asura. And he's a fuck- sorry, a flipping pain in the ass. He's making me lose my investors, dear."

"You mentioned that. Umm, did you give them that contract that I drew up a few years ago? The one about all of that legally binding stuff? There's a section in it saying that they-" Poppy looked up in thought, recalling the sections of the contract by rote. " _T_ _he investor cannot withdraw without at least 6 months notice. Nor can the investor dissent meetings regarding withdrawal without legitimate-"_

"Yes, I did. However, they've used Goliath as a 'legitimate reason'." Vincent rubbed his head. "Goliath has this book. A notebook of sorts. And he's found incriminating evidence on everyone affiliated with myself and the Clan."

Poppy opened the contents of the envelope.

"So you want me to find him?" Poppy began to fiddle with the corners of the page. "I'm don't know him enough-"

"That's where Tora comes in." Vincent sat up. "As you know, Tora is... _quite close_ to Goliath. He's the only one who knows him best and how to handle him when they do meet. However, Tora's not exactly got the... 'people skills' that you have Miss Wilkes."

The Ares Tiger watched as Poppy scribbled things down in her little notebook and nodded along to everything Vincent was saying. He wasn't telling her shit. _Quite close, my ass_. Tora hadn't had a proper conversation with Goliath in years. Unless it was about "where the fuck's my rent money" and "do you think Zee will hook me up with your regular bitch?", then his knowledge was _zero_. _Nada_.

"I want you to find out _everything about him_. Where was he seen last, who with? Why? Then divert everyone's attention to something else. Make sure no one else has a lead on Goliath." Vincent set his gaze permanently on Poppy.

Tora spoke up, feeling useless in the situation. "So what am I supposed to do?"

"Tora, you know where to look but Poppy knows how to unpick where you look. Plus, if Goliath finds out I'm tailing him, Poppy's going to be in danger." The Chairman looked at him in the eye. "I want him to disappear. Without casualties this time, I ask." 

"Sir, with all due respect. Ronzo can do the same thing."

"Ronzo knows Gang Law but not Nairin Law. Poppy has tabs on the media and the magistrates. If you want Ronzo to deal with Ares Street then fine, it's your call. But you're working with Poppy."

"Apologies, Miss Wilkes. As he said, I'm not exactly the 'sociable type'." Tora's eyes glared back into Vincent's. "Mr Balthuman seems to have _forgotten that_."

"So you want me to help Mr.Tora find Goliath and have Mr.Tora deal with him. And make sure the 'razzis aren't onto you again?" Poppy refused to look Vincent in the eye, uncomfortable by the stare-off between the two characters. "Anything else, mister?"

"Get my damn investors back. Or else I'll have someone's neck."

"I'll have a little play around. If anything we could just sue our way in." As Poppy finished packing her stuff away, she stood up and looked towards Tora. "Come on, Mr Tora. I'll take you out for coffee, my treat."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My notes for this literally had Poppylan acting like the sexy beast that she is. But I realised that it would be more fun to have little sexy hamster babie Poppy.
> 
> Also, please write down some names! Like boys names or smth, I need background characters names and I hate spelling Schlarch? Scharch? Scorch? Scratch? Too many variations.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know whether Goliath and Tora are brothers but like. It's impossible to be both hot and have golden eyes, like what the fuck.
> 
> Also yes, like every other fic, I've used the Asura's Bride for their surnames. Forgive me :)
> 
> Also, if you read my other fics, I do promise to edit and continue Tyrants and Deciet. Turns out that I'm a perfectionist that keeps seeing mistakes in the plotline.


End file.
